


so easy

by kidcomrade



Category: No More Heroes (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, a bunch of anonymous fantasy dudes/Travis Touchdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Huh.  'He’d be fucked'—what would <i>that</i> be like?" Travis' fantasies go a little farther than anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so easy

It didn’t mean a whole lot to him—getting off, that is. Pull it out, tug a few moments, wham; he’d come every time, nothing special, whatever. As easy and essential as going to the bathroom whenever he got that urge.

What  _did_ mean something were his thoughts. Normally he’d just picture some porn star with giant tits and that old fashioned, predictable whining-squealing-moaning-begging routine—a classic. Or when he’d get tired of  _that_ , he’d switch to the hentai and have any number of variations of the aforementioned routine, except the girl had cat ears or squirted milk from her tits or was being groped all over by some weird penis tentacles. Or something along those lines.  
  
Average guy porn, in the end. (Well, save for the Japanese stuff.)  
  
But lately?  
  
It wasn’t his fault—I mean, Christ, the high-pitched Japanese screeching in hentai got on his nerves sometimes. Couldn’t he jack it without getting his eardrums blown out every once in a while? He’d be fucked if his eyes hadn’t been straying from the soft, curvy bodies of the girls to…somewhere else. To the burly guys the camera didn’t really focus on, grabbing them by their hair, grunting and rutting into them without much more than a “get on your knees”.  
  
Huh.    
  
“ _He’d_ be fucked”—what would  _that_ be like?  
  
Slammed roughly against a wall outside some night. Thrown back onto the bed. Bent over. Crouched. On his knees.  
  
Pants to his knees, cement and brick scraping his skin as he knelt before some man's anonymous cock; his stupid screen tee pulled up over his head, catching his sunglasses in the folds and leaving him wide-eyed and naked; his belt hitting the side of the desk and falling to the floor noisily; face to the ground; fingers clumsily grasping, groping, unzipping a fly.  
  
Rougher hands on his face, gripping his dark hair.  
  
The same hands pinching, shoving, tugging, just  _touching_ him in ways he’d been embarrassed to admit felt good to him, for whatever reason.    
  
Then, hands on his body, exploring the lean curves of muscle, inching down—oh, hell no. He didn't want it, no way—the hands reaching into his pants, rubbing over the head of his dick—okay, fuck,  _maybe he wouldn't mind_ —shoving him back, or forward, or pushing something  _in_ , maybe. Another man's length in him, fucking him from behind or catching him between a wall or a table with his knees bent and his legs spread. Or, maybe, he'd have it in his mouth instead, the taste of a man something foreign to him and bitter (or was it salty?)  but, oh, it'd be damn good, he’d bet. And he’d suck it off, and suck it off  _well_ , swallowing the cum down and eagerly licking the remainders, sticky and white, off his lips.  
  
Hell, yes. He wanted it—wanted to be the one whose breaths wavered and shook as he gripped strange bedsheets, swore, and rocked back and forth on a cock, desperate. And maybe he’d even make some noise, if it was good enough: not like a fucking porn star, he had a little more dignity than that, but like hell he'd be able to keep quiet while being fucked in the--  
  
"…oh, shit."  
  
Travis Touchdown’s erection was uncomfortably pressing up against his jeans.    
  
  “Goddamn it!”  
  
Stupid fucking dick. Thinking for itself.  
  
Belt clinking as he undid it, he leaned back in his armchair, unzipped his pants, and clicked on whatever was already in his DVD player. Probably the German one again. That one was always good…yeah...  
  
…  
  
…So, yeah. Like he’d said.  
  
Getting off? It was easy.    
  
All too easy.


End file.
